I just saw a panto horse driving through
a restaurant window
driving an Aston Martin
convertible and
the bastard’s right good. I left to investigate,
which turned out to be excellent timing. A disgusting
fat man ate several plates of food
and exploded. As
I ran after the driving horse, nearby was the church
I’d attended as a child. Forgetting
the horse,
I entered the church, the familiar scent of lavender candles burning
Father O’Briain enjoying his favorite
pastime: exercising in glitter.
